Paths In The Woods
by OXBastetXO
Summary: Dean wakes up to the world not exactly the way he left it and it's up to Sam to pick up his trail before it's too late. Complete
1. Chapter 1 The Path Mistaken

Title: Paths in the Woods  
Author: OXBastetXO  
Rating: K+  
Archive: Please ask first  
Status: WIP  
Category: Drama  
Summary: Dean wakes up to the world not exactly the way he left it.  
Spoilers: Everything up to 2nd season  
Sequel/Season: Season 2  
Authors Note: I don't own them, CW does. I'm just borrowing them for while and promise to give them back when I'm done, though I might just keep Dean and the Impala little longer ;-)

Chapter 1 – The Path Mistaken

"Dean, please wake up."

A soft hand rested on his forehead and stroke through his short hair.

"Dean, hunny, please. You've got to wake up."

Dean frowned, his forehead wrinkling as he struggled to place the hushed voice.

He felt like crap. His head hurt. His body ached. He felt like someone had stuffed him into a bag and shoved him down a couple flights of steps.

He squinted an eye open and instantly regretted it at sunlight burned it's way straight into his brain. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

"Thank goodness," the woman breathed in relief and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

Dean couldn't stop the quizzical look from spreading across his face as he squinted up at her. "Hi," he croaked. He coughed and his throat felt rough and raw.

The woman quickly picked up a glass of water from the table beside the bed and help him take a sip.

"How do you feel?" she asked him, smiling sweetly down at him.

"Okay," he said, staring at her. "Who are you?"

Her smile fell. "That's not funny, Dean."

Panic started to rise up in him. "I'm not joking. Who are you?"

"I'm Missy. Your wife."

Dean stared, his mouth opening and closing a few times, before his brain could catch up. "Wife?" He looked around. "Where's Sam?"

Missy glanced over at a small crib on the other side of the room. "Sammy's here. He's sleeping. I can get him if you want."

"Sammy?" Dean couldn't keep the squeak of panic out of his voice. This couldn't be real. He was still dreaming. He reached over and gave his arm a hard pinch. "Ow," he grunted and Missy gave him a frightened look and her eyes had started to tear up.

She rested her hand on his forehead again. "You've been very sick, Dean. You had a very high fever. Sister Mae said there might be some problems because of it. Why don't you try to sleep some more. I promise this will make more sense when you wake up."

Dean tried to form some kind of protest, but he couldn't think of one right now and sleep sounded like a pretty good idea.

Missy gave him a small smile and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Just rest, love. It will be okay, I promise."


	2. Chapter 2 The Path Taken

Chapter 2 – The Path Taken

Sam glanced over at the illuminated face of the motel's alarm clock and then he looked at his watch. He frowned and turned his attention back to the laptop's monitor. He drummed his fingers lightly on the keyboard and then grabbed his cell phone punching the redial. The phone rang a couple times and then went right to Dean's voice mail. Just like it had the last five times he tried it.

He clenched his teeth and drummed his fingers on the keyboard again.

"This is crap," he said, snapping the laptop shut and shoving himself to his feet.

Dean was supposed to be back hours ago. He had gone with a friend of their father's to meet a girl while Sam researched the group they had come here to find out about.

Sam paced around the small room.

It had all started with reports of some disappearances. Mostly elderly folks in their seventies and eighties. A couple had been up toward ninety. Then people had started disappearing from nursing homes in the area. They thought it might have been some kind of local angel of death thing. Some nurse or doctor who thought they were "helping" people by putting them out of their misery, but then it go weirder.

No bodies.

The bodies of old people started disappearing out of funeral parlors and the local morgue.

This was all going on about the time he and Dean had gotten the call from their dad's friend, Bob, from a town in Ohio.

Bob was a hunter like them, but he had never seen or heard of anything like this. He though their Dad might help, but, no Dad. So, he was stuck with Dean and him.

A little digging had turned up a commune like community just east of town. The more they dug, the stranger things got.

To the outside world, the commune looked just like another other agriculture based sect like the Amish or Mennonites of Pennsylvania or Ohio, but on a closer look, much different. They called themselves 'the household'. The best they could figure it was from the verse in the Bible that talked about the "household of faith."

The locals hadn't been much help. Most of them just thought the group were Mennonites or something. That was until they met a woman who had left the group. Missy something. She had approached them outside a diner they had been asking questions in.

"Are you the two men asking about 'the household'?" the dark haired young woman asked. She stood back in the shadows between the door and the soda machine.

"Yeah," Dean said, moving closer to the girl to get a better look at her. She shied back, but didn't bolt. "We won't hurt you," Dean tried to reassure her.

She gave him a fleeing smile. "You might not, but---" She glanced around, looking scared. "I can't talk here. They'll see me. The Cathars will know. They always know. " She slunk back more into the shadows. "Tonight. In the park, by the barbeque pits."

Before they could ask her anything else, she was gone.

That has been yesterday and no Bob and Dean were gone.

Sam sat back down and opened up the computer again. He had looked up the Cathars. Something about them had sound familiar.

What he found puzzled him. The Cathars were a religious off shoot of the Catholic Church from the twelfth century related to Gnostics. Many believe Gnostics were an splinter, 'heretical' group of early Christians who has developed beliefs in dualism. The belief of two distinct gods. One good, one evil and there can be no life without the two to balance each other. Because of the spiritual conflict between these two forces the 'divine spark' in each being was held captive by the physical form and could only be released through spiritual 'enlightenment'.

What the heck was religious movement from the Middle Ages doing in modern day Ohio?

Suddenly, something slipped into place in Sam's mind. He knew why the Cathars sound familiar. The Di Vinci Code.

He rubbed his face. That had been a lame movie and half the 'history' in it was junk. Tom Hanks hadn't been bad though. Most of his movies were pretty good though. Jess-- He sighed. Jess has liked Tom Hanks movies.

He closed powered down the computer. He was sick of this waiting. Something had happened and he was going to find out what.

He grabbed for his jacket and his cell phone started ringing. He glanced at the number as he flipped it open. "Dean! Where have you been?"

There was a paused. "May I ask who I'm speaking to?" an unfamiliar voice responded.

"Who is this?" Sam shot back.

"This Sheriff Malton of the Middleburg Sheriff Department. I was hoping you could help me. We found an abandon care and this cell phone and your number was the first in the redial."

Sam closed his eyes. This was not good.


	3. Chapter 3 The Path More Pleasant

Chapter 3 – The Path More Pleasant

Dean stared down into the crib at the sleeping infant. He was dreaming. That was the only rational explanation for this. He hugged himself tightly as a chill swept through him. He felt only marginally better than he had when he had first woke up here in this crazy upside down world. He had managed to get dressed, but hadn't gotten much farther than that. He couldn't seem to focus on anything much more than that. He had meant to check the house out , but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the baby.

Missy had said 'their' baby. That was crazy. He'd remember a girl like Missy and he'd defiantly remember a baby.

He studied the cubby-cheeked baby. He looked…he looked like--- Sam. Or how Sam had as a baby.

Tears stung his eyes as memories he has pushed back so long ago rushed forward. Memories of a life before demons and hunting. His Mother. Memories Sam didn't have. Their Father, easy going and…happy. Not the driven man Sam knew. A man who laughed easily and readily. Mom did that too him and when she was gone…so was he.

He cleared his throat and blinked hard, pushing those feeling back down. He didn't have time for this. He had to figure out what was going on. He sniffed and coughed, bottling things back up inside again where they belonged.

"Hey. You're up," Missy said, coming into the room. She looked into his eyes and the bright smile on her face disappeared. She wrapped her arms around him. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said tightly, trying to untangle himself from her.

"Stop," she said, grabbing his arms. "Talk to me."

He stared at her. "Look, Missy, or whatever you name is. I don't belong here. I need to find my brother and –"

"Stop," she said. She pulled him over to the bed and pushed him to make him sit. "Dean, you're not making sense. Your brother—" she took a deep breath. "Dean, your brother died when you were four. You know this. He died in a fire with your Mother."

He started to shake his head. "No. I got Sam out."

She cupped his cheek in her hand. "Dean, you Father got you out and then went back for Sam, but it was too late." She sighed, kneeling down in front of him. "You kept talking about the fire while you were sick. I'm sure it seemed very real, but it's not." She paused, holding his hands tightly in hers. "Dean, can't you remember anything about me and our Sam?"

He frowned at her and shook his head.

"What can you remember?" she asked, her voice thick, but her face composed.

Instinct told him he just needed to get out of here, but her eyes held him. Something about her eyes. Fear, worry…love. He thought back and frowned. Beyond a few scraps from his childhood ---

Missy leaned up and kissed his forehead. "It's okay. We'll figure this out. I promise. You just have to trust me," she told him.

Part of him wanted to fight her, something, he couldn't quite put his finger on seemed, wrong, but—He looked at her. "Okay," he found himself saying.

She squeezed his hands.

He looked at her. "My Father?"

She closed her eyes a moment. "He died a few years ago. He didn't cope well after the fire. He pretty much crawled into a bottle and never came out. He left you with Pastor Jim and just never came back. Do you remember that?"

He could remember his Father leaving him with Pastor Jim a few times, but he always came back. Always. He left him and Sam. Sam? How could he have left him and Sam if Sam was dead? His head was starting to hurt.

"Pastor Jim raised you," Missy went on. "He was a good man," she said with a sad smile.

"Was?" Dean asked cautiously.

"He passed away from a heart attack right before we got married," she told him gently.

Dean pulled one of his hands free and rubbed his aching temples.

Missy got up. "Hunny, why don't you lie back down? You're still recovering and you need to rest."

Dean lay back on the bed without much protest and Missy pulled an afghan from the end of the bed and tucked it around him.

"Try to take a nap and I'll make some soup for you to eat when you wake up," she said kissing his cheek.

Baby Sam woke and started to fuss. Dean watched Missy go over and pick the baby up. She cooed softly to the infant until he settled. She caught him watching her and smiled at him. Dean couldn't help but smile back.

This wasn't so bad, was it?


	4. Chapter 4 – The Path Obscured

Thanks to everyone for the feedback. This is my first foray into Supernatural. It's all Kam's fault!! ;-) I've been doing SGA fic for a while now, but after a break of a year or two of writing, I'm back again. :-)

Smile,  
Bastet

* * *

Chapter 4 – The Path Obscured

"Sheriff Malton?" Sam flashed the phony badge. "Agent Sam Walton, FBI." He struggled to hide a grimace. Where did Dean get the ideas for these Ids?

The Sheriff, a middle-aged man with a paunch, nodded in greeting, "Have to say we don't get many federal types out this way." He eyed Sam's flannel shirt and jeans skeptically. "Not that you much look like one of those federal types."

Sam glanced down at his clothes. "Trying to keep a low profile. Didn't really want to advertise we have an operation going on here."

Malton just nodded. He held out Dean's cell phone to Sam and Sam took it checked the call list. Just him and couple of contacts of their Dad's. He pocketed the phone and Malton continued. "I looked up that cell phone. Couldn't get much on it. It's one of those prepayed cellular jobs. Some fellow named," Sheriff Malton glanced down at the notepad in his hand, "Wade Yingling. Checked that out too, but couldn't find much on him either. Just a bunch of unpaid credit card bills, but in my way of thinking, that's not his real name. Is it?" he asked, giving Sam a pointed look.

Sam scratched his chin. "You got me there. It's not. His name is….Stan…Wazowski." Sam flinched inwardly. Where did that come from? Oh, crap that stupid movie with the computer generated monsters Dean kept getting on the pay-per-view in the last motel they had stayed in.

"Wazowski, you say," Malton said, moving to jot it down.

"But, that may not even be his real name," Sam interjected quickly. He lowered his voice and stepped in closer to the sheriff. "Look, what I'm telling you is highly confidential and, frankly, I could lose my job for even discussing this with you, but Stan…Wade…Dean…whatever his name is, is part of the witness protection program. We were relocating him here and that's why I really can't explain all this to you."

The Sheriff nodded. "I see," he said tightly and then asked, "mob stuff?"

"Something like that. Agent…well, let's call him, Bob, was with him. An African-American man in his forties. Short and kind of heavy set."

"And this Wazowski fellow. Kind of tall with short dark hair, green eyes?"

Sam nodded.

"Candy down at the dinner described a couple of fellows that basically fit that description talking to one of those girls from 'the household', that religious compound out on route 30."

"And after that?"

"Mike down at the barber shop said that black fellow stopped to use the pay phone, but didn't hear anything he said."

"Did you try to trace the call?" Sam asked quickly.

Malton nodded. "He called that cell phone there," he said nodding to Dean's cell phone.

"Did Mike say where Bob went after that?"

"He hung around there for a while and then a guy in a pick-up picked him up."

Sam frowned. "Did know who it was?" Malton shook his head. "Get the plates?" Malton shook his head again. Sam sighed in disgust.

"Look, Agent Walton. We don't usually find need to be keeping track of that kind of stuff."

"Yes, sir, I know," Sam said, placating. "I'm just really worried about Bob and…Stan."

"I'm sure you are," the Sheriff responded.

"Look, where did you find Stan's phone?" Sam asked.

"Down by the culvert," Malton said, turning to lead Sam over there. "Couple of kids were playing down there and I went down to chase them out. Culvert seems to be a favorite spot for hide and seek," he explained. "Had a kid get stuck down there last spring and we've been trying to keep the other kids out of there ever since."

Sam nodded, slipping and sliding down the bank as he followed the older man. He looked around taking in the surrounding area. It was basically on the edge of town and pretty far removed from any houses and only a few storage type buildings could be seen around them.

The ground under his feet felt hard and packed. Obviously, the kids like to run this area pretty hard, judging from the paths that darted in and out of the woods beside the road.

"If found it right---" Malton's voice dropped off in to a low curse.

Sam whipped his head around to see what had started the Sheriff and his stomach clenched. "Bob," he said in a horrified whisper.

Bob McKlane lay partially shoved into the culvert. His throat slit from ear to ear.

"This is really bad," Sam said softly.


	5. Chapter 5 – The Path Fading

Chapter 5 – The Path Fading

"Dean?" a soft hand touched his cheek and he leaned into the touch with small smile.

"Hey," he said, looking up at Missy, a long lock of her dark hair falling down to tickle his cheek as she sat down on the bed beside him. He reached up to tuck it back behind her ear and her dark eye sparkled down at him merrily.

"Feeling any better?" she asked and he nodded.

"Getting there." He frowned a little. "What was wrong with me?"

"Bad cold that turned into something little more nasty, but you're much better now," she said, leaning down to kiss him on the lips.

Dean kissed her back. This felt right. His kisses grew more urgent and then Missy pulled back, a soft grin on her face as she leaned in a placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Not so fast, mister. Sister Mae said to make sure you didn't exert yourself for a couple of days yet and I think even as nice as that would be, it would be a little more than you should do right now. Sammy and I need you better."

Dean sighed in disappointment, but obeyed. He studied her face. "Who's Sister Mae?"

Missy frowned a little. "You really don't remember, do you?"

He shook his head.

Missy settled in beside him. "Brother William and Sister Mae started the community here. Founded 'The Household'. You came here a couple of years ago; looking for work and you got a job at the garage in town working for Eddie. You started coming out to fix the tractors on the farm here and that's how you and I met."

"Farm?" he asked, glancing at the window. The place did have a 'country' feel to it.

Missy nodded. "'The Household' keeps itself pretty self sufficient." She smiled a little at the look on his face. "I know that look, Dean Winchester. That's the same look you gave me the first time we talked about 'The Household'. It's not a cult or some crackpot religious group and we're not the Mansons."

He blinked at that. That was exactly the thoughts going through his head.

"'The Household' just believes in hard work and keeping close to God's creation without the distraction that the secular world offers." She smiled at him. "Though you are my one true distraction and I'm still trying to win you over to joining us. You even have started to come to Church meetings on Sunday with me."

"I have?" he asked in surprise.

She nodded. "Ever since Sammy was born."

"Huh?" he said in disbelief. "Who'd a thunk it?"

A whistle noise came from the other end of the house and Missy jumped up. "I'll be right back. I was making some tea," she said excusing herself.

Dean lay there thinking about what she told him. Religion wasn't exactly 'his thing'. It was good for some people, but he had seen too many bad things…lived through too many bad things. He sighed and laced his hands behind his head.

Baby Sammy started fussing in his crib and Dean glanced at the door expecting Missy to show up to check on the infant. When she didn't, he got up gingerly. His head still felt kind of fuzzy and he was a lot shakier than he'd want to admit. Whatever had been wrong with him seemed to have really taken a lot out of him.

He moved to the crib and smiled down at the little boy. "Hey," he said, reaching in to brush the child's cheek. "What's the matter there, partner?" he asked softly and then leaned in to pick up the infant.

Sammy buried his face into Dean's shoulder and he rubbed the baby's back comfortingly. "Shh," he soothed. "It's okay. I got you." He walked over to the window, bouncing the baby gently as he rubbed his back.

Dean looked out the window. He could see a small grouping of neat houses edged in by thick woods. The kind of thing you'd see on a postcard you'd pick up in one of those artsy tourist traps.

Sammy settled as Dean held him, burbling contently.

Dean saw some movement off to the one side and he shifted to get a better look. Missy talked animatedly with a man and Dean frowned. The man looked…scared? Then, Missy was looking up at him smiling brightly and waving. The man waved as well. Dean waved back tentatively and stepped back from the window.

He must have been seeing things.

He looked down and Sammy had gone back to sleep. He carried the baby back to the crib and laid him back down gently, tucking a blanket around him.

Dean leaned against the crib a cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He had to have been seeing things. His memory was screwed up, why not everything else?

Why did he suddenly have this bad feeling about this?


	6. Chapter 6 The Path Ahead

Chapter 6 – The Path Ahead

"So what do we got?" Sam asked, bringing back two cups of coffee and a bag of donuts.

Malton glanced up from the pile of reports on his desk. "Well, I looked through the missing persons reports like you asked and the only thing I can find that any of them had in common is heart trouble."

"Heart trouble?" Sam asked, putting down the coffee and donuts and taking a sip of his coffee. "What kind of trouble?"

Malton glanced down at his notebook. "Most of them had open heart surgery of one sort or another. Four had pacemakers. A couple had those defibrillator things implanted. You know those new gizmo's that shock the heart if it stops beating. Mo, down at the garage had one of those. He disappeared about two months back." He cleared his throat and picked up his cup of coffee. "Thanks," he said to Sam.

Sam stared off into space a moment, his mind churning through this. "Each of them had a near death experience. Heart stopping—" His voice trailed off as his thought flew back to after the wreck, walking in on the medical staff in the hospital all over Dean restarting his heart after it had stopped. The pressure in his brain from the head injury causing his body to start shutting down. He swallowed hard. "That happened to…Stan. Car wreck a few months back. He was hurt pretty badly. They didn't think he would pull through."

"He did though," Malton said.

"Yeah, he did," Sam said, tightly. Dean had lived, but not because of the hospital or the doctors, but because of their Dad. Their Dad and the deal he made with the yellow-eyed demon.

Malton was staring at him. "So, what you think we're dealing with here? Aliens? Devil worshipers? What?"

The sheriff had the look of a man who was at his wits ends.

Sam gave him a crooked smile. "I doubt it. We're probably working with something a lot more human."

Malton relaxed a bit. "This Bob fellow. Is there someone you should notify? Superiors? Family?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet. We should figure out what's going on before we put more people in danger." He moved to look over the desk at the reports spread out. "When did the first of the disappearances start?"

The Sheriff turned back to the reports. "About two years ago," he said, digging. He pulled out a worn folder. "Art Guthrey. Old coot who lived on a farm just outside of town. Actually, it's the farm that 'Household' group bought. Couple of the others lived on farms close to there. We thought 'The Household' might have had something to do with it and we executed a search warrant out there, but never found anything. Then, a couple more disappearance happened on the other side of time, while those folks were accounted for. So, they were dropped as suspects."

Sam nodded. "Were exactly is 'The Household' located?" he asked.

"On the other side of the woods from where we found your friend, Bob McKlane's body."

"What is this 'Household' about?" Sam asked.

Malton looked uncomfortable. "Nobody really much knows. They don't do much outside themselves and they don't let outsiders really in," he explained. "They seem like some kind of Amish, but –" he shrugged.

Sam nodded. He had never really heard of any group calling themselves 'The Household' before, but it wasn't the first time he had seen a cult group and this group had all the earmarks of one.

Sam glanced at his watch. "I need to go check on something. I'll be back in a couple hours. You keep digging and see what else you find," he told the sheriff and then cut out the door before the older man could offer a protest.

Sam downed the last of his coffee and jogged to the Impala. He needed to check out this 'Household' and see exactly what was going on. He had a feeling that this whole thing had more to do with them than they knew just now.

If they had done anything to Dean, they were going to wish they hadn't. He had no idea how bad it could be to mess with the Winchester boys.


	7. Chapter 7 The Path Darkened

Chapter 7 – The Path Darkened

Dean padded through the house. Missy had left again and he wanted to get a bearing on the place. Things felt…off. The more he looked around the more he felt it.

No pictures.

There were not pictures in the house. No pictures of a wedding. No pictures of family. No pictures of nothing.

It could be a 'Household' thing, but it didn't feel right.

He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. The farther he went into the house, the colder it got. He curled up his freezing toes inside his socks. He couldn't find his shoes. He couldn't find any other clothes either. He couldn't find anything.

The house was like those houses they get ready for real estate showings. Everything looked nice and warm and homey on the outside, but inside, below the surface…empty. Nothing in the closets. Nothing in the drawers. It was…empty.

He moved into the kitchen. It was a bright sunny room of windows and white wallboard. Pristinely clean and impeccably tidy. He frowned. Kitchens were supposed to be this clean and tidy. Real people didn't live in houses this clean. Houses real people lived in had crumbs on the counters and cheerios hiding in the corners and mud on the linoleum.

He moved to open a cupboard.

"Dean? What are you doing up?"

He turned to find Missy standing there smiling sweetly at him. "I got restless," he told her. He looked around the room. "What's going on?"

She frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"We don't live here," he told her.

"Of course, we do," she said, moving to take his arm. "You just don't remember—"

He cut her off. "Nobody lives here. There are no pictures. Nothing in the closets. I'm betting there's nothing in the cupboards or the fridge either, is there?"

"Dean," she said soothingly. "We had just started moving in when you got sick," she started.

"Then were are the boxes. When people move, there are boxes everywhere," he said, gesturing to the empty room around them.

"Dean, you need to come and lie back down before you get yourself worked up. I can explain everything to you. You just need to come back and lie down," Missy started, pulling on his arm in the direction of the bedroom.

Dean pulled back, stopping here. Something tickled the back of his mind and a throbbing ache started behind his eyes. He grasped for the tickle of memory. A word. "Christo," he said softly, almost to himself, trying to place why that felt so important right now.

"Dean, you shouldn't have done that," Missy said, in her soft, sweet voice.

She looked up at him and her honey brown eyes were black soulless pits.

Dean tried to pull back from her, but she moved impossibly quick and his head slammed into the nopecounter, driving him into darkness.


	8. Chapter 8 The Path Primeval

Chapter 8 The Path Primeval

Sam pulled the Impala off the side of the road and sat there a moment. He took a deep breath and got out of the car heading for the trunk. He slipped the key in the lock and opened it, reaching in to pull the floor of the trunk up to get at the arsenal beneath.

He started loading things into the duffle. He tossed a couple extra containers of salt and plastic bottle of holy water in with the extra rounds of rock salt. He put the duffle on the ground and closed up the trunk. Then, he stopped a moment and sat on the edge of the trunk, leafing through his Father's journal.

This just didn't feel right. Dean just vanishing and then finding Bob dead, his throat slit.

The Sheriff had said Bob met up with someone in a pick up. That didn't make sense with the story Bob had given them. He had call Dean's cell saying he had gotten his number from Dad's voice mail message. He was looking for another hunter to be backup for him as he checked out the disappearances because he didn't know anyone around this area. If he didn't know anyone here, who was picking up?

A nasty notion worked its way into Sam's thoughts. What if…this was all a set up? What if Bob was trying to lure them here under the pretense of needing help? That would mean Bob was working for whoever had taken Dean and if Bob was dead— Sam sighed. That meant either Dean was dead or right where whatever or whoever had grabbed him wanted him to be. Sam was not willing to even entertain the thought that Dean could be dead. That just wasn't a possibility right now.

Sam tossed the journal onto the back seat and locked the doors on the Impala before shouldering the duffel and heading into the woods. Sheriff Malton said that "the Household's' compound was just on the other side of the woods. It shouldn't take him too long to get there and scout the place out.

The woods grew darker the deeper in he went. Birds twittered and squirrels scolded at him as he hurried along. He kept up a steady pace keeping the sun to his right as he walked. He was just starting to wonder how deep the woods were when he saw them thinning in front of him and he carefully stepped into the clearing and found himself facing the Impala. Right where he had started.

That was crazy. He knew enough about moving through wild country not to get turned around like that. He pivoted and headed back into the woods. This time, checking his direction every twenty or so feet. He kept his eye on the sun, the moss on the old hard woods, even occationally checking the compass he had shoved into the pocket before leaving the Impala behind. He saw the woods thinning again and he groaned as he stepped out of the trees.

"Don't give me this freaking Blair Witch crap," he growled under his breath, heading for the back of the Impala.

He knew what he was dealing with now. Black arts. A warding spell meant to keep out anyone they didn't want to get in. He wasn't going to put up with that. This was meant to keep him from finding Dean and that just wasn't going to happen.

He had the back of the Impala unlocked and was in the under compartment in a matter of moments, his Dad's journal open to a rite that was supposed to break these kind of spells. He had most of what he needed in the trunk and what he didn't, he could make up. He spread out a cloth and dumped the ingredients on to it and then locked the Impala back up and headed into the woods. He stopped at the verge of the woods and spread out the appropriate things and recited the words in Latin. A small wisp of smoke went up from the pile of herbs on the cloth and Sam smirked. Darn right. Nothing was keeping him from his brother.

Hopping to his feet, he headed back into the woods. This time nothing was stopping him.


	9. Chapter 9 The Path To Hell

Chapter 9 – The Path to Hell

"Dean, hunny. Come on wake up."

A soft hand brushed his temple and then cupped his cheek.

"That's it," the voice coaxed. "Open your eyes."

Dean struggled to get his eyes open. His head thundered with pain and he felt weak and nauseous. He finally managed to get them open, but they wouldn't stay focused. A dark shape loomed over him and he squinted trying to make it out. He tried to move, but he couldn't move his arms.

He struggled, but something bit into his wrists holding him in place.

"Shhh," the voice whispered, breath hot in his ear. "It will all be over soon. Don't struggle. That will just make it worse."

"What?" Dean pulled back from the voice and tried to get a better look.

Missy smiled down at him. "You really should have just left well enough alone, Dean," she said, pulling back her long dark hair. "This could have all been so pleasant for you. I could have given you everything you wanted. A home. A family. A normal life." She held up a finger to quiet him. "Don't lie to me. It may work with your brother Sam, but I know you much better. All you've ever wanted was a normal life for you, he and your Father. For you normal may not be the same as others, but all you ever wanted was for the three of you to be together."

She turned her back on him and Dean gave a futile jerk on his arms. He lay on his back on a slab of stone. An altar? Stripped to his waist, his arms bound over his head and his legs lashed to the base of the slab.

"What are you doing to me?" he demanded of the woman.

She turned back, a wicked looking knife balanced in her hands. "You don't need to worry about that. It will all be over soon enough." She walked back and reached to cup his cheek in her hand, but he jerked his head away. She shook her head. "So much strength. I could have lived off of you for years. Years we could have had as a family. Years you could have watched our little Sammy grow. Grow to take your place." She sighed, "but you had to ruin that by being too curious."

She walked back to the altar and picked up an ornate chalice. "This is so disappointing. I had such plans for us, love," she said, coming back to face him again.

Dean stared at her face. She looked older, more worn and wrinkled than he remembered. She climbed up on the slab with him, straddling his body.

"What the heck are you doing?" he demanded, a panic starting to fill him and he bucked under her, trying to dislodge her, but she only smiled.

"Just one last taste," she said, her face so close to his, their noses were almost touching, her breath hot against his cheeks.

Dean stopped struggling, his strength melting away. Fear surged through him. "What are you?" he demanded again, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper.

"Why, I'm your wife, Missy, Dean," she said, her dark eyes warm and sultry. "Why don't you give me a kiss?" she breathed, her mouth closing over his.

Dean tried to pull away, but she pinned him to the unyielding stone under him. Something was happening. He could feel something happening. He could feel himself getting weaker. Then, it hit him like a thunderbolt. She was sucking the life out of him. Draining him dry. Feeding on him. He had to stop her! He had to---


	10. Chapter10 – The Path Bygone

Chapter10 – The Path Bygone

Sam picked his way through the undergrowth. Something felt, wrong, about the woods. A thick, fetid smell clotted the air around him and there was a distinct lack of sound. Not birds, not squirrels, no insects, nothing.

He moved to step over a log and hit toe caught and he stumbled forward, the log crumbling in a rotted mess. Sam dusted his pant leg off and looked around him. Everything was dead or dying around him. The smell of decomposition heavy.

He had seen this kind of decay before a long time ago on a hunting trip with his dad. The land was cursed.

So much for the idyllic little garden spot 'the Household' was supposed to be. He held his breath as much as he could, covering his mouth and nose with his coat sleeve as he worked toward the clearing ahead. He had nearly reached it when his foot caught something and he pitched forward onto his face. He landed hard in the putrid soil. He started to push himself up, but something hard an angular pinched his hand painfully and he pulled back., his blood running cold. He shifted up slowly.

Bones lay scattered around him haphazardly. He got to his knees and brushed himself off. Picking up a piece of a broken branch, he pushed at the pile of bones he had tripped over. Something small and plastic caught his eye. He pilled it out of the bones and frowned at the wires trailing out of the small plastic box. He dropped it realizing what it was. A pacemaker.

"Oh, crap," he whispered. He had found the missing old folks.

He got to his feet and turned slowly. What had to be dozens of remains filled the clearing. He swallowed against the harsh bite of bile in his throat and steeled himself. He had to find Dean. He had to find Dean, now!

He picked his way through the bones and pressed towards the main clearing ahead. He could see a few structures from between the rotting trees. The houses seemed oddly clean and neat in the middle of the dying woods. The grass around the houses was dead and turned to dust.

Sam picked his way slowly, trying to avoid anyone in those houses seeing him. Not seeing anyone, he dashed between the trees and the nearest structure. The small shed didn't offer a lot in protection, but it didn't look like there was much of anyone around. That was unless they were all hiding in the small houses. There were six houses in all and what looked like a meeting hall or church situated in the center of them.

Sam pulled out a pair of field glasses and studied the structures. He frowned switching from one house to the other. Empty. Not a soul in sight.

He shoved the field glasses back into his duffle and he shouldered it, getting ready to make a dash for the next house.

"Hold it right there," a withered female voice addressed him.

Sam turned slowly and an old man and woman stood baring his way out of the shed. The man glanced around furtively and nudged the woman into the shed.

"She'll see us," he pleaded.

The woman wavered a moment and then let him push her into the shed, closing the door behind them.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded once they were all inside.

"Sam. Who are you?" he answered.

The old man sighed. "We don't have time for this. Just tell him where his brother is and lets get out of here."

Sam blinked. "You know where Dean is?"

The woman grimaced. "Yes, but you have to get out of here. She'll kill you. It's already too late for your brother. She's got him in her grasp and he's as good as dead."

"I'm not leaving without Dean," Sam told her, facing her squarely. "What's going on here?"

"We don't have time for this," the old man declared again. "She'll know we're here. She's getting more powerful and with that boy to feed off of, she'll be able to break the binding spell and won't be tied here any more. She'll be loose."

"Slow down," Sam said, holding up a hand. "She who?"

The old woman sighed deeply. "Missy, my sister."


	11. Chapter 11 – The Path Laid Bare

Chapter 11 – The Path Laid Bare

Sam stared at the woman. "What's your sister got to do with this?"

"My sister is the one who has your brother. She's –" The woman closed her eyes. "She's not who she used to be."

"And she'll know what we're up to if we don't get moving," the old man snapped.

The woman sighed. "He's right. We're not safe. We need to get to the house. She'll be too busy with your brother to pay much attention to use there. The protection spells will be much harder for her to see through."

Before Sam could protest, the old woman grabbed his hand and practically dragged him across the yard to a small, neat looking white board house.

As soon as the door was closed, the man made a quick hex sign on the door. Sam recognized it as one his father occasionally had used to seal doors to keep spirits out.

The old woman sat down wearily on a chair. "Look, young feller, I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do for your brother, but we can try to keep you safe from her. Missy's growing too strong for William and I to contain any more."

Sam felt impatiens and anger growing inside him. "Just tell me what's going on and where Dean is."

"Missy has his in the sanctuary."

"Don't call it that," the man snapped. "It ain't no sanctuary now, the way she's desecrated it with her black arts."

The woman hung her head. "Missy is my sister. Our Father bought this land for us to live on away from others. He knew Missy had the gift and he didn't know how to control her, no better than we've been able to control her. Our Mother had it before us and she taught us, Missy, William and I," she said, nodding in the direction of the old man. He kept himself busy drawing the symbols on the door.

"Dean said something about this group having to do something with the Cathars. He met a girl who was afraid of them. She said they were watching her"

The woman stared at him. "That's our name. " She closed her eyes. "Lord, Missy got out to talk to him?" She turned to the old man. "William."

He frowned. "I know, Mae."

She looked back at Sam. "Missy turned to the dark arts. We didn't know at first, but then, Father found her summoning something. It was awful. The thing came and killed Father and—" she took a breath to steady herself. "Missy was never the same after that. She's evil. Pure evil. We were able to lock her for a while, but then people started to disappear and she started to get stronger. She was killing them and feeding on their life breath. After she was done with most everyone here, she started on the town. A few at first and then more. She finds more power out of those with the twice blessed life."

"'Twice blessed'?" Sam echoed. "Those brought back from death."

The old woman nodded. "They're blessed. She started taking them. She can take them from the town, but she has to bring them back here to feed on them."

He nodded, things clicking in place in his mind. He knew what he was dealing with now. A demon. One that had a tie to a place or an object. He had something to work with now.

"Where's this Sanctuary?" he asked.

"It's the big building in the center of the houses," Mae told him. "But you cant—"

She never got to finish. Sam was out the door and heading for the Sanctuary and Dean.


	12. Chapter 12 – The Path Through the Shadow

Chapter 12 – The Path Through the Shadow of Death

Dean felt sick. More than that, he felt he was dying. He knew what that felt like. Crap. Could he have been any stupider?

His heart hammered painfully in his chest. He took a deep breath trying to calm the palpitations, but even breathing hurt.

Missy had done something to him. He knew she was feeding on him, but she was doing something else to him. He could feel it.

The feeding was bad enough. He realized that was why he had felt like crap each time he had awaken before. She had been working her mojo on him keeping him weak and control able. He didn't know if it was a spell or drugs she had been using to keep him from thinking…remembering. He remembered now.

Bob. Bob, Dad's old friend, betrayed him. Bob had set him up. Set him up and dumped him off here for Missy.

Dean sighed, resting his head back against the stone slap. His shoulder burned from being held back tightly over his head and his back ached from the unforgiving stone under him. How long had he been here? Did Sam even know he was gone?

Crap, Sam. Dean swore under his breath. This couldn't be happening. First, their Mom, then Jess and Dad and now him.

Dean gave a futile jerk on the bonds holding him and then cursed again when his movement caught the attention of the other person in the room.

Missy turned. "Fighting won't help you, Dean. Just relax. It will all be over soon," she said, walking over to him, a wicked looking ceremonial dagger in one hand and a silver chalice in the other. Deep wrinkles creased her face and white streaked her dark hair. Age spots marred her formerly perfect complexion.

She saw him staring at him. "Don't worry. All this will fade away once we're finished," she said sweetly.

"I can't believe I kissed you," Dean spat at her.

Missy just laughed. She reached for his arm and Dean hissed in pain as she made a shallow cut across the inside of his arm. She moved the chalice under his arm to catch the blood.

"Maybe I'll find that handsome little brother of yours and see if he kisses as well as you do," she said off handedly.

Dean pulled against his bonds again. "Over my dead body."

Missy just smiled. "I think that is rather the point," she said, moving away, swirling his blood in the chalice, muttering softly to herself in a language Dean didn't recognize.

Dean thunked his head back against the stone under him. Great, either she was going to hex him to death or just let him bleed out. He wasn't sure which he'd rather prefer.

He turned his attention to rubbing the edge of the rope binding his hands against the stone of the altar. Doing something, even something futile was preferable to just laying there waiting.

He looked over to Missy and cringed at what he saw. She had a rag and was rubbing his blood from the chalice over her face and neck.

"That's disgusting," he said, before turning his full attention back to the ropes.

Missy ignored him, her attention totally on the ritual.

A shadow passed the entrance of the room and Dean glanced that way, trying to be careful not to let Missy see him. He watched and the shadow moved again. A tall, lanky and very familiar shadow.


	13. Chapter 13 The Path Out

Chapter 13 – The Path Out

Sam slipped inside Sanctuary and edged his way into the main room. He could hear a woman chanting. Sam took a moment and dug through the duffle bag he had brought from the car. He pulled out a couple containers of Holy Water and shoved those into the pockets of his jacket. He pulled a knife made of blessed silver out and shoved it into the top of his boot and then slipped a clip into his gun with iron rounds. He wasn't exactly sure what he was dealing with, but that should have all the bases covered.

He pushed the duffle bag out of the way and then peeked in the doors of the Sanctuary. He clenched his jaw at what he saw inside.

Dean lay stretched out, shirtless, on what looked like a stone altar, his hands bound above his head. Blood trickled from a gash in his left arm. His brother looked like crap, his face looked gaunt and haggard, the skin pasty pale. Missy stood at an altar spread out in occult fashion. Sam's stomach churned when he got a good look at what she was doing. Dean's blood smeared the woman's worn features. She seemed to be growing older by the moment. The congealing blood clung to her face and hands in a grizzly fashion, bathing the wrinkles in gore. She finished her ministrations and carried the chalice back to Dean and held it under his bleeding arm, she reached to make a fresh cut with the dagger in her hand.

Sam kicked the doors in firing at her as he rushed the room. The first two slugs caught her throwing her backward. She landed in a pile at the base of the altar.

"Sam!" Dean shouted weakly at him, struggling against his bonds.

Sam reached his side in an instant, grabbing the knife from his boot to slash through the bonds.

Dean glanced beyond Sam and his eyes went wide. "Watch out! Drop!" he commanded and Sam ducked. The air over Sam's head split as the woman slashed a dagger at him. He grabbed a bottle of holy water and squirted her liberally with it.

Steam boiled off her as she shrieked, pulling back. Sam used the distraction to slice through Dean's bonds. He managed to get his brother's hands free before she came at them again. Dean grabbed for the bottle of holy water and kept up a steady stream on her while he cut Dean's legs free.

"Can you walk?" Sam asked, pulling Dean off the slab.

"Yeah," Dean said, but his legs didn't agree and kept buckling under him.

Sam started to shift to shoulder him, when, suddenly, he found himself flying through the air and connecting painfully with the fall wall. He bounced off it and hit the floor, only to be flung against the wall and pinned there this time.

Missy snarled as she stalked toward him. The holy water had burned wide swaths across her bloodied face, blistering the skin underneath. Diluted blood stained the simple white dress she wore.

"He's mine," she growled at him, her voice dark with demonic power. "You pitiful fool. I will break you like a child's toy." She smiled, a sick twisted thing. "How do you think you're brother will feel, the last sight he has in this world being his baby brother's broken, mangled body?"

"This must stop," a reedy voice demanded from the doorway of the Sanctuary.

Sam's tried to look, but he couldn't move. Missy keeping him pinned the wall like an insect on a pin.

Missy turned to look and started to laugh. "You?" she spat. "You're going to try to stop me now? How pathetic." She turned to face the doorway and her grip on him shifted just enough for him to see who she was talking too.

Mae and William stood in the doorway. The elderly couples faces set in stone. William clutched a well-worn Bible in his hand.

Missy hissed and raised her hand and lightening shot from her fingertips, arching in deadly spindles toward them. William held the Bible up defensively and the energy crackled against it, stopping.

The next moments were a blur as the three siblings rushed towards each other. In the confusion and cacophony of thunderbolts and arching lightening. Sam felt himself slid to the floor. He wasted no time, getting to Dean and pulling his limp form up and over his shoulders. He staggered under his dead weight. He spotted a door off the side of the room and he made for it. He didn't spare a look behind him as he put as much distance he could between the fight and his injured brother.

This was family business for more than just him. He'd let this up to Mae and William.


	14. Chapter 14 – The Path’s End

A few quick thank yous...

Thanks to Kam for keeping the cattle prod on me to get this finished. Thank's girl!!!

And thank you to everyone who's reviewed. You've kept me writing! I was kind of nervous posting this. This is my first big SPN fic and first foray into another fandom other than Stargate for a while.

Evil FanFic writers are like Vampires...reviews are our life's blood.

THANKS!!!!!

* * *

Chapter 14 – The Path's End

Dean woke slowly and stretched, groaning, His body didn't like him moving at all. Somewhere, nearby he could hear a shower running. With a deep sigh, he relaxed into the lumpy mattress. He moved to drape his arm over his eyes, but frowned at the bulky dressing over his forearm. He started to pick at it when the door of the bathroom opened.

"Hey, leave that alone," Sam said, coming out, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

Dean stared at him. A large number of red and purple bruises covered his younger brother's chest and back. "What happened to you?" he demanded, shoving himself up on an elbow.

Sam pulled on a pair of shorts and came over to the bed. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked, watching Dean intently.

"What happened?" Dean started to say and then he did. Missy, the house, the altar. His eyes widened as it all flooded back. "Are you okay?" he demanded the younger man.

"I'm fine. How are you feeling?" he countered.

Dean swallowed hard. He felt like he had been a few rounds with Tyson, but other than that, strangely, not bad. "Okay," he said and then sighed. "Better." He pinned Sam with a look. "What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Dean thought. "You had showed up and stopped the ritual. She tossed you up against the wall." He shook his head, waiting for Sam to pick up the next part.

"Mae and William showed up. They were Missy's brother and sister. Everything broke loose after that and I just got you out of there," Sam confessed. "I checked with Sheriff Malton after I got you here. It's gone," he said.

"What?"

"The 'Household'. The whole thing. Sheriff said they found the place in the middle of the woods, but it was deserted. He said it looked as if nobody had been there in decades. It was just a bunch of derelict houses falling in on themselves."

Dean pushed himself up against the headboard of the bed and frowned. "But we were just there."

Sam nodded. "I guess maybe whatever had been keeping Missy young was keeping the place looking the way it was."

"With her gone, everything went back to the way it was."

"Looks like it," Sam said. "I called Bobby. Told him what happened and he said she must have been some kind of succubus kind of thing. Fed on the life of others to keep alive and used some kind of blood ritual to keep her youth. Kind of like Elizabeth Báthory."

"Who?" Dean asked.

"German Countess from the fifteenth century. She had this thing for bathing in the blood of young women in an attempt to keep her beauty."

Dean shuddered. "That's just sick."

Sam nodded, watching him intently. "Bobby says with her gone, you'll be okay. You'll just need to rest up a bit."

Dean scrubbed his hands over his face and then nodded. He froze. "Sammy."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"There was a baby. Missy said his name was Sammy," Dean blushed a little. "What happened to the kid?"

Sam gave him an odd look. "The Sheriff said they had found a missing baby, but his name was Ethan Thomas. The Sheriff said it was the craziest thing; the baby had been stole from a local hospital a couple weeks ago, but then just appeared on the doorstep of the Sheriff's office right before I called him. "

Dean relaxed and rested his head back against the head of the bed. He knew Sam wanted to know what had happened, but he wasn't ready yet. Crazy as it was, it was over. Everyone that mattered was safe. Safe, alive and as screwed up as their lives were, back to normal.

"Dean, you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I am."

Sam sat there a little while longer, but then moved to finish getting dressed. Dean lowered himself down onto the bed and pulled a pillow under his head.

Yeah. He was okay.


End file.
